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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23503153">Wrong Number</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spinning_In_Infinity/pseuds/Spinning_In_Infinity'>Spinning_In_Infinity</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Deadpool (Movieverse), Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AU, Dirty Talk, Hot Wade, Insta-Lust, M/M, Masturbation, Non-power AU, Peter texts Wade by mistake, Phone Sex, Sexting, Wade is 34, age gap, flirtation, might evolve into two chapters, peter is 20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 11:20:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,574</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23503153</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spinning_In_Infinity/pseuds/Spinning_In_Infinity</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Wade sighed. It was late, he had an early start tomorrow, but the space beside him on the mattress was feeling particularly empty tonight, and he didn’t mind a little company, even if it was only digital."</p><p>On a night out, Peter is given a phone number by a hot guy. Little does he know the number actually belongs to Wade, who is going to get more than he could have dreamed from this unexpected conversation.</p><p>Does phone sex count as a one-night-stand?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Peter Parker/Wade Wilson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>93</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>810</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Wrong Number</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The smallest of one shots to keep my writing gears from rusting while I try and force myself to work on my WIPs!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><strong> <em>Hi </em> </strong> <strong>:)<em> x</em></strong></p><p>  Wade glanced down at his iPhone screen, glowing bright in the darkened room. The text was from a number he didn’t recognise, and he wondered if it was one of those stupid ‘number neighbour’ pranks. Picking up the phone, he typed a quick response.</p><p>
  <strong>Hey?</strong>
</p><p>  The typing dots appeared, disappeared, appeared again. Wade straightened his position slightly against the headboard.</p><p>
  <strong> <em>You okay? </em> </strong>
</p><p>  Wade sighed. It was late, he had an early start tomorrow, but the space beside him on the mattress was feeling particularly empty tonight, and he didn’t mind a little company, even if it was only digital.</p><p>
  <strong>Spectacular. You?</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Hehe! Yeah, good thanks. Just got in.  </em> </strong>
</p><p>  He glanced at the time – 00:45AM</p><p>
  <strong>Wow party animal</strong>
</p><p>  He wasn’t sure when was the appropriate moment to tell them they’d got the wrong number. He was curious to see how long it took them to realise.</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Lol makes a change from studying.</em> </strong>
</p><p>  Studying, huh? So, a teenager, or at least a college student. Hopefully the latter. At thirty-four, late-night texting with kids might seem just a <em>little</em> shady.</p><p>  The texting dots flashed on and off for a while, so Wade didn’t reply.</p><p>
  <strong> <em>So . . . I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go to a movie or something.</em> </strong>
</p><p>Okay, now was the time to fess up. Oh, more dots?</p><p>
  <strong> <em>I don’t normally do this but you seemed really cool.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Hope you don’t think its too forward as we literally just met tonight lol!</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>*it’s</em> </strong>
</p><p>  Wade heart gave a pang of sympathy for the poor sap on the other end. Clearly this was a random number given by someone who either wanted to be a jerk or didn’t have the guts to turn them down in person. Also, the spelling correction was so dorky, it was a little heart-breaking.</p><p>
  <strong>So you got this number from someone tonight?</strong>
</p><p>  There was a long pause at the other end, and Wade imagined what must be going through the person’s head – confusion, realisation, embarrassment. Eventually the reply came through:</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Yeah. </em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>This isn’t Johnny, then?</em> </strong>
</p><p>  Wade winced. The poor schmuck.</p><p>
  <strong>Afraid not </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Oh.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Sorry</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>It’s fine. Sorry to have bothered you.</em> </strong>
</p><p>  Now, he could have just left it at that – switched his phone off and gone to sleep. The stranger would get on with his own life, dejected, and Wade could continue with his meaningless existence.</p><p>  Or . . .</p><p>
  <strong>You okay?</strong>
</p><p>  The following silence was so long that he thought they weren’t going to reply, then the dots appeared again.</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Yeah.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>You sure?</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>No.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Wanna talk about it?</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>I feel really stupid.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Try not to</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Not your fault whoever gave you this number was an asshole</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>My fault, really. He was way out of my league.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>The hot ones are the worst </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>I wouldn’t know. I don’t usually flirt with people, but my friends made me. They said he was looking at me.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Did he ask you back to his place?</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Yeah. But I said I couldn’t leave my friends.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>There’s your problem</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>He just wanted a fuck</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Not my sorta thing.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Where’d you meet him?</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>The Pink Cherry.</em> </strong>
</p><p>Wade rolled his eyes. The Pink Cherry was one of the most popular new gay bars in town, and had already garnered a reputation for easy pick-ups. You didn’t go there for slow and steady.</p><p>
  <strong>Eesh – rookie error</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>I know. But he OFFERED me his number. I didn’t even ask for it! Why would be give me a fake one?</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Cuz he’s either a moron who doesn’t know his own number or (as aforementioned) an asshole </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Well, thanks for being nice, anyway.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>No worries</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Certainly made my evening more interesting</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>What are you doing rn?</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Waiting for the apocalypse</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Just for something to do</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>I heard there’s a plague of frogs coming next Tuesday. Hang tight.</em> </strong>
</p><p>Wade huffed a small laugh.</p><p>
  <strong>I’m Wade btw</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Cool name. I’m Peter.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>How old are you?</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Lol next question gonna be what am I wearing?</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Depends on your answer</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Lol I’m 20.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Cool</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Now what are you wearing?</strong>
</p><p>The laughing emoji came through and Wade grinned. There were certainly worse ways to spend a night than chatting with a non-heterosexual twenty-year-old. To his surprise, the next item to come through was a photo. It was the torso and thighs of a slim guy in a faded <em>Star Trek</em> T-shirt and maroon pyjama pants.</p><p>
  <strong>Cute</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>May the force be with you</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>OMG you did NOT just say that.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Please tell me you’re not serious.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Relax Spock</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>I know the difference between an Ewok and a Tribble</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Which is?</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Size</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Lol. Guess this is the part where I ask what are YOU wearing?</em> </strong>
</p><p>  Wade considered for a moment, before taking a selfie of his shirtless torso and boxers, the blankets bunched around his thighs. Even since Vanessa left, he’d kept himself in good shape, and was suddenly glad of it. The answer came quickly.</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Holy shit.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>That is NOT you.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Why not?</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Because there’s no way my luck is that good.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Let me guess – you’re straight.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>No, wait, even better – you’re married. </em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>And you voted for Trump.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>I think that’s the most random but horrible insult I’ve ever received</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>No no and NO</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Besides you haven’t seen my face yet</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>That’s okay, you can just wear a bag.</em> </strong>
</p><p>  Wade laughed. He was growing to like this kid.</p><p>
  <strong>Oh really?</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>And in what circumstances would I be wearing this bag?</strong>
</p><p>  There was a pause, in which he wondered if Peter would take the bait. It had been a while since he’d done this.</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Depends.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>On?</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Your face.</em> </strong>
</p><p>  Now, in the scope of online safety, Wade didn’t exactly class himself as vulnerable. He was a body-building mechanic living in a one room apartment in Brooklyn, and the most incriminating thing about his mind-numbingly dull life was his hentai search history. So, what did he have to lose? Angling his phone over his head, he snapped a quick picture and sent it over. Okay, so his beard was a little longer than usual, but his looks had never failed to hook a curious fish before.</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Okay, now that’s just not fair. If that IS you.</em> </strong>
</p><p>Wade smirked.</p><p>
  <strong>It’s me</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Don’t worry I’m not gonna ask for one of you</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Appreciate it. Okay, so forget the bag. I want full floodlights.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Kinky</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Well, you can hardly blame me if that’s literally your face.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>It is literally my face</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>And you’re SINGLE?</em> </strong>
</p><p>  Wade felt an uncomfortable pang in his stomach.</p><p>
  <strong>It’s a new development</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Oh, shit, I’m sorry.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Well new as in six months</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Was he blind?</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>No she wasn't</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Just smart!</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Lol. Also sorry, I shouldn’t have presumed gender.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>So woke</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Well, I AM Gen Z!</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Aw tiny baby</strong>
</p><p>  It felt strange to be having such an easy flow of conversation with someone he didn’t know. Someone whose <em>face</em> he didn’t even know. The flirtation felt comfortable – fun.</p><p>
  <strong> <em>How old are you?</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>34</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Nice. </em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Yeah?</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Yeah. Old guys are hot.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>OLDER! Is2g that was meant to say older!!</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>FFS why am I like this??</em> </strong>
</p><p>  Wade laughed loudly in the empty apartment.</p><p>
  <strong>I’ll pretend I believe you!</strong>
</p><p><strong><em>I am SUCH a dumbass. </em></strong>Four crying face emojis.</p><p>
  <strong>I appreciated the sentiment</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>This is why I never flirt with anyone – I suck.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>That should be a perfect reason to flirt with someone</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Oh god, you HAD to go there, didn’t you?</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Duh</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Guess I was asking for it.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>That’s what I’ll tell the court</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Dark humor – love it.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>You know the more we talk the more I think the guy who gave you my number was an idiot</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Yeah?</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Yeah</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>You’re adorable</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Like I said, he was way out of my league.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Nothing compared to you, though.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>No?</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>No way. Assuming that IS what you look like.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>You want proof?</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Sure, why not.</em> </strong>
</p><p>  Switching the camera mode to video, Wade grinned and waved at the lens. On an impulse, he grabbed the newspaper resting on his bedside table and brandished the date to the camera.</p><p>  “See?” he said. “Only old people still read papers.”</p><p>  He sent the clip and waited for Peter’s response. He’d forgotten what this felt like – even at thirty-four he still had that faint flutter of excitement in his stomach that came from shameless flirtation. Peter could be a fifty-stone Russian guy for all he knew, but for the moment he was willing to believe in his own fantasy.</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Hunnnnuunggnghgh.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>That good huh?</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Seriously, I’m NEVER this lucky. Under usual circumstances your number would have belonged to some Texan neckbeard.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Well I’m happy to disappoint</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Suppose I should return the favor, really . . .</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>You really don’t have to</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Honestly, I kinda want to.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>You know you shouldn’t trust people you meet online</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>I know, but you seem cool.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Oh man</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>You are a predator’s wet dream</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Gotta admit I’m curious though</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Hold on a minute.</em> </strong>
</p><p>  As the ‘responsible’ adult, Wade felt he should maybe insist that Peter not send him a face pic, but it wasn’t as though he was going to <em>do</em> anything with it. He just didn’t want the kid doing the same thing to any strange guy he met; and as much as it didn’t matter, all he could think was “please let him be cute, please let him be cute”.</p><p>  Spoiler – he was cute.</p><p>  The video Peter sent showed a boy with a heart-shaped face, short, wavy brown hair and a sweet smile that melted some of the icicles in Wade’s heart.</p><p>  “Hey,” he said. His voice was light and nervous, his pretty dark eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. “So, this is me. Hope it’s okay. I mean, hope my face is okay.”</p><p>  That was it. Wade watched it a couple more times before replying.</p><p>
  <strong>So you’re officially the cutest thing I’ve ever seen</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Shut up XD</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Not kidding</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>And yes your face is fine</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>And by that I mean DAMN fine</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>That guy was a fucking moron</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Thank you.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>I know you said one night stands weren’t your thing</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>But I’d give it a damn good try lol!</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Well, if it had been you maybe I would have made an exception.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>That so?</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>How tall are you?</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>1.88</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Yeah – exceptions would have been made.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>How tall are you?</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>1.73</em> </strong>
</p><p>  Wade had a mental image of Peter under him on the bed, his small, slim frame caged in by Wade’s tall, muscular one. He thought of Peter’s hands gripping at his shoulders, his biceps, as he thrust into him, his skinny legs wrapped around his waist. Fuck, he was getting hard.</p><p>
  <strong>Okay now you’re deliberately torturing me</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>You?! I’m the one having a genuine Adonis flaunted in front of me. </em> </strong>
</p><p>  Something sprung into Wade’s mind that hadn’t occurred to him before, since he’d not cared enough to pick up on it at the time. Peter had said he’d met the guy who’d faked his number in The Pink Cherry. Unless they were a chain brand, the only club Wade knew of that name was in Queens – only an hour’s subway journey from his apartment in Brooklyn . . .</p><p>  He forced himself to slow down. That didn’t matter. The fact that the kid lived in the same city as him did <em>not</em> mean he could just rush over and bend him over a table, much as the idea appealed to him.</p><p>  Peter was typing.</p><p>
  <strong> <em>So . . . question for you.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>K</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Well, you’ve got the face, you’ve got the body. Have you got . . . the other thing?</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>If you’re asking if I have a cock</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Yeah I do</strong>
</p><p>  There was a long pause, in which Peter typed, stopped typing, six times. Wade was sitting fully upright now, both hands on his phone.</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Can I see?</em> </strong>
</p><p>  His head swam. He could hardly believe his good fortune, and immediately started hunting through the conversation for evidence that the kid was secretly a cop on the hunt for lowlifes.</p><p>
  <strong>You WANT to see it?</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Yeah.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>If you’re okay with that.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>If you don’t want to, I get it. </em> </strong>
</p><p>  Oh boy, kid, you’d get it all right. Wade’s mind was racing. The kid had said he was twenty, and while he had a youngish face, he <em>looked</em> twenty. He at least didn’t look twelve. And since he’d <em>asked</em> for the picture, it couldn’t be classed as harassment or anything like that. Oh, the romance of judging prison sentences before sending a dick pic!</p><p>  Eventually, he made up his mind.</p><p>
  <strong>You want a pic or vid?</strong>
</p><p>  His heart was beating fast. His mind was going at a hundred miles an hour as he watched the dots flashing across the left-hand side of the screen.</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Video.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Please.</em> </strong>
</p><p>  Of course the kid said ‘please’.</p><p>  Wriggling his boxers down below his ass, Wade turned on the camera and switched it from front-facing mode. He’d never been exactly shy about the size of his cock – a respectable seven inches – but it felt slightly odd being in the spotlight like this. Pressing the record button, he supported his semi-erect length in his palm and gently rubbed it, moving his fingers from base to tip. Spurred on by his touch, it quickly filled out to full rigidity. After three minutes, he hit the stop button and send the clip to Peter before he could change his mind.</p><p>  He could see Peter had received and viewed the message, and so could only wait in apprehension for his response. Why was he so nervous? Was it because this was the first time his penis had graced a digital platform? Was it because this was the first sexual interaction he’d had since Vanessa left? Or was it simply because Peter was so fucking cute? He felt like a schoolgirl trying to find out if her crush liked her back.</p><p>  When the reply came, he wasn’t expecting it to be a return video clip. He guessed what it would be before he clicked on the blurred icon. As the image became clear, he bit down hard on his lower lip, absorbing the sight of Peter’s cock as thoroughly as he could onto his retinas.</p><p>  Peter’s cock was smaller, an average five inches or so, but that did nothing to detract the shock of excitement that ran through Wade’s body like an electric current. It was the <em>noises</em> that accompanied it. Small, hushed grunts and moans as Peter’s slender fingers toyed with himself, fingertips rolling his foreskin back and forth over the head.</p><p>  Scarcely able to believe this was happening, Wade tapped out a quick message, hitting send before he lost his nerve.</p><p>
  <strong>Wanna video chat?</strong>
</p><p>  The idea was somewhat terrifying. He felt pathetic – big strong Wade Wilson, ex-military hunk, scared by the prospect of phone sex with a guy barely out of his teens.</p><p>  His phone screen lit up, displaying a single, life-altering word:</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Yes.</em> </strong>
</p><p>  The phone rang twice before Peter picked it up, and Wade was greeted by the sight of his adorable face, looking tense and more than a little nervous.</p><p>  “Hi,” he said, feeling some of his anxiety loosen once he saw the kid was as freaked as he was.</p><p>  “Hey,” Peter flashed an anxious smile.</p><p>  “You sure you’re okay with this?” Wade said. He still had one hand on his cock, keeping it awake. “We don’t have to.”</p><p>  “No, I want to,” he said. “I’m sorry, I just . . . I’ve never done this before.”</p><p>  “Well, that makes two of us,” Wade grinned in what he hoped was a comforting way. “Just take it easy, yeah?”</p><p>  “Yeah. Okay.”</p><p>  “Good boy,” Wade let his voice drop into the deeper register he usually reserved for sexual encounters. He saw a shiver run through Peter and felt a familiar sense of satisfaction. “You still touching yourself?”</p><p>  “Mm-hm.”</p><p>  “Turn the camera round so I can see.”</p><p>  Peter obeyed and Wade watched him working his cock for a moment before continuing. “That’s it. Now, I want you to imagine me while you’re doing that. Pretend it’s my hand. Can you do that?”</p><p>  “Yeah.”</p><p>  “Good. Tell me what you want me to do to you.”</p><p>  “I want . . .” he heard Peter swallow. “I want to suck your cock.”</p><p>  Hearing such words spoken with that sweet voice was music to Wade’s lecherous ears. He opened his mouth to speak but Peter carried on anyway.</p><p>  “I want to feel you on my tongue. I want to know what you taste like. I bet you taste good.”</p><p>  “That’s good, baby,” Wade said softly. “I’d hold your hair in my hand and thrust into your hot mouth.”</p><p>  “I want to take you all the way down my throat,” Peter said, his voice becoming breathless. “I want every inch of you inside my mouth.”</p><p>  Holy shit, this kid was good. His cock twitching with excitement, Wade decided to take charge.</p><p>  “I’d pin you to the floor and fuck your mouth like you’re a sex toy,” he said. “You’re my little toy to play with.”</p><p>  Peter moaned louder, his grip tightening on his cock. Wade’s own fist was evenly pumping his shaft.</p><p>  “I want to hear you gasp and choke on my cock,” he said. “I want you to take it like a good boy.”</p><p>  “I’d be good for you,” Peter promised. “I’d do anything you said.”</p><p>  “Would you get on all fours for me? Show me your pretty little ass?”</p><p>  Wade wasn’t sure where the words were coming from. He seemed to be channelling every porno he’d ever watched, every erotic novel he’d stumbled across, and he was willing to bet Peter was doing the same.</p><p>  “Mm-hmm,” Peter said. “Do you want to fuck me, Wade?”</p><p>  The expected use of his name took Wade by surprise and he almost shot his load right then and there before regaining control.</p><p>  “Honey – I want to fuck you six ways from Sunday,” he growled. “I want to stick my cock inside your tight little hole and pound it ‘til you can’t walk. You’re so fucking hot.”</p><p>  “I want you to fuck me so bad,” Peter gasped. “I want to feel you inside me. I want to feel your cum.”</p><p>  “You wanna be my little cum slave? Wanna take every load I give you?”</p><p>  “God, yeah . . .” Peter’s breathing was becoming quick. “Oh fuck, Wade, I think I’m gonna cum.”</p><p>  Wade quickened his own hand pace. “Tell me you want me to fuck you. Moan like I’m pounding your ass.”</p><p>  “God, yes, Wade,” Peter whimpered. “Please, fuck me – I need you. I want you so fucking bad. Cum in me, please!”</p><p>  “Cum for me, baby,” Wade could feel his own orgasm rising like the crescendo of a symphony. “Say my name when you cum, Peter.”</p><p>  “Ugh, Wade! Wade, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum—”</p><p>  The sight of the pearly white fluid spilling over onto Peter’s fingers, combined with the desperate pleas and moans from his sweet lilting voice, was enough to send Wade over the edge. He came harder that he could remember cumming in a long time, his seed shooting out onto the flat of his stomach, his balls clenching and unclenching as they spilled their contents.</p><p>  For a minute they both just lay there, in their respective rooms, breathing hard.</p><p>  “Holy shit,” Peter gasped, breaking the silence. “That was insane.”</p><p>  “That it was,” Wade switched the camera view away from his softening cock and Peter followed suit. His cheeks were flushed and shiny, his eyes bright. Wade let out a long breath. “Next time I wanna see your face when you cum.”</p><p>  Peter blinked. “Next time?”</p><p>  “Well, yeah,” Wade grinned. “If you want.”</p><p>  Peter’s head flopped back onto his pillow, the phone shaking a little as he supported it with one hand. “Hell yeah, I want.”</p><p>  “You know . . . I live in Brooklyn.”</p><p>  Peter sat up again. “What? I’m in Queens!”</p><p>  “I guessed,” Wade chuckled.</p><p>  “So . . . does that mean . . . we could . . .?”</p><p>  Wade shrugged. His blood felt like it was sparkling from the high of such pleasure. “If you wanted. I could come to you. We could meet wherever you want.”</p><p>  “You mean . . . actually <em>do</em> this?”</p><p>  “Honestly, we don’t even have to fuck. I just wanna see you. Hell, I’d accept a pat on the head if that’s all you could offer!”</p><p>  “Who’d’ve guessed the moron turned out to be a matchmaker?”</p><p>  “I should send him a nice fruit basket. Or just a banana.”</p><p>  Peter yawned widely and Wade grinned. “Time for beddy-byes for you, I think.”</p><p>  “Sorry – guess I wore myself out.”</p><p>  “Well, next time it’ll be me doing that to you personally.”</p><p>  Peter gave a sleepy smile. “Plus I need to wash up a bit.”</p><p>  “Yeah,” Wade splayed his fingers, examining the webs of cum sticking to the skin. “Girls don’t know how lucky they got it.”</p><p>  “I dunno,” Peter said. “I’m feeling pretty lucky right about now.”</p><p>  A bud of warmth bloomed inside Wade’s chest and he wondered if he’d just fallen in love.</p><p>  “Can I call you tomorrow?” he asked.</p><p>  “You’d better. Or we’re gonna have words.”</p><p>  “Well, as long as two of them are ‘fuck’ and ‘me’, I’ll be happy.”</p><p>  “Don’t forget me.”</p><p>  “Not gonna happen. Goodnight, Peter.”</p><p>  “Night, Wade.”</p><p>  Wade hung up and made his sticky way to the bathroom to clean the gunk off his hand and stomach. He glanced at his reflection above the sink – his cheeks were pink, his expression lighter than the mirror had seen in months.</p><p>  He climbed back into bed and stared out the window at the smoky New York sky, shimmering purple and amber against the many thousands of headlights dancing beneath it.</p><p>  It had never looked more beautiful.  </p><p>   </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Any comments and kudos are highly appreciated! Comments make me very very happy, even if it's just saying hi!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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